


Empty

by pandoras_chaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandoras_chaos/pseuds/pandoras_chaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron can't figure out why it all feels so wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Written in (gasp!) 2005... jeez. Unbetaed

Empty. That’s how Ron felt. He couldn’t escape the nightmares that threatened to take over his life. He couldn’t even remember how long ago it was that he watched the fall of the Dark Lord, but he was pretty certain it couldn’t have been long.   
  
The entire wizarding world had breathed a huge sigh of relief when the final battle was announced to be over. Everyone had applauded the Order and their work. Nobody seemed to give a flying fuck that when Voldemort finally fell, he took Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die, with him. When Voldemort’s power finally came crashing down around him, Ron felt his world shatter with one blood curdling scream.   
  
He still wasn’t sure whose scream it was. He had imagined it had been Hermione’s, or perhaps Ginny’s. Hell, it could even have been himself for all he knew, or maybe a collective death knell.   
  
Ginny died a week later. The Cruciatus had driven her nearly mad to begin with and watching Harry die had thrown her over the edge. She was in St. Mungo’s from the time they collected her off the field to the time her eyes closed for the last time. Ron hadn’t been there, but he’d received his mum’s owl the next morning.   
  
He knew he should be sad. She was his baby sister after all, but Ron couldn’t seem to feel anymore.   
  
Even Hermione couldn’t rouse him. He was pretty sure it was Hermione that had dragged him off the front lawn of Hogwarts when the remaining Death Eaters fled. He just couldn’t get the picture out of his head of Harry, lying in the middle of the trampled grass in a pool of his own blood, bright green eyes looking slightly faded as they lay open towards the sky.   
  
He’d had a slight smile on his face.   
  
It was that smile that haunted Ron. Like the world was finally at peace.   
  
It wasn’t until Hermione’s pleading continued for almost a month that he finally agreed to go out with her. He needed to get out of the house, she’d said. All she wanted was for them to be like it was before…   
  
Be like it was. It could never be like it was. Before the war, he’d had a best mate. Before the war he’d had five brothers and a sister. Before the war he’d had both parents. Before the war he’d been able to feel.   
  
There had been several casualties of war on both sides. He knew most of the Death Eaters were dead. Perhaps there were two or three remaining, but he no longer cared. He’d watch Harry kill countless of them on his way towards Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy had been the first to fall at Harry’s wand. Too bad Draco wasn’t there to watch. Ron himself had finally silenced Bellatrix Lestrange, but not before she’d tortured Hermione for near on twenty minutes. He was secretly surprised Hermione could still stand.

  
The Order had lost almost as many as the Death Eaters: Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt among many others. Ron personally lost his father as well as Fred, Charlie and Ginny. Percy had joined the Death Eaters shortly before the final battle. Ron never did find out what happened to him, nor did he care much.   
  
Ron surprised Hermione when he agreed to finally go out with her one evening. They met at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner and then walked about Diagon Alley for a while. Hermione was a bit more subdued than he remembered her, but she’d put on a happy face for the evening. Ron couldn’t bring himself to care much.   
  
It wasn’t until they’d wandered into Flourish and Blotts that Ron even noticed where he was going. Hermione fluttered away, promising to meet him in an hour. He vaguely heard his name being called and although the voice was familiar, he couldn’t place it.   
  
When he finally turned towards the voice, his blue eyes leveled with unmistakable grey ones.   
  
Draco Malfoy looked different from when Ron had seen him last. He had dark circles under his eyes, probably much like his own and he was thinner than Ron remembered. His platinum blonde hair was longer and looked like it hadn’t been washed for days. It took a few moments for Ron to realize that Malfoy was actually saying something to him. He shook his head slightly, as if to shake the cobwebs out of his ears. Malfoy’s voice sounded fuzzy and faded somewhat when Ron finally heard him speak.  
  
“How are you doing, Weasley?”   
  
Ron blinked a few times before he replied, “About as well as you look, Malfoy.” Ron’s voice sounded rusty even to his own ears. He wondered how long it had been since he’d used it to communicate. He couldn’t remember.   
  
Malfoy smiled a little, the expression looking foreign and almost painful. Ron wondered silently how long it had been since he’d used those facial muscles.   
  
“What have you been up to?” Malfoy asked.  
  
“Nothing much really. I haven’t seen you since before the last battle.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
They were silent for a few minutes, both of them lost in their own thoughts.   
  
“Listen,” Malfoy broke the silence, “You want to get a drink or something?”   
  
Ron agreed, if only because he couldn’t think of a reason not to. They settled themselves at a quiet pub at the end of the street.   
  
“Look Weas—Ron. I know we never got on well…”   
  
“It’s ok, Draco. You don’t have to be my friend just because he’s gone.”  
  
When he didn’t get an answer, Ron looked up from his pint. Draco’s grey eyes were cast downwards and it looked as though he were fighting back tears.   
  
For the first time since Harry’s death, Ron felt something.   
  
He tentatively reached a hand across the table and covered one of Draco’s. “Look mate, I’m sorry…”  
  
Draco shook his head slightly, “No. It’s alright. You’re right. I don’t even know why I tried. I just… I just miss him is all.”  
  
Ron squeezed the pale hand under his in silent support. “I know, Draco. I miss him too.”  
  
Draco sighed and tossed back the rest of his pint. Ron drew his hand away and leaned back, watching the blonde as his eyes glazed over with memories. Ron’s own thoughts strayed back to the year previous, before the battle had occurred, when things were still hopeful for the future.   
  
He could suddenly hear Harry’s laughter again, so clear it was as if he were in the room with them. He watched the memories unravel themselves rapidly, one image flashing before another: Harry on his Firebolt, zooming towards the Snitch. Harry doubled over in laughter, mocking whatever joke it was Ron had said. Harry’s adoring gaze as Hermione answered yet another question right in class. Harry’s wanting stare bordering on jealous when he caught Ron and Hermione snogging behind the couch. Harry’s eyes flashing, hunched over and menacing as he advanced towards the oncoming Death Eaters. Harry’s longing expression when he glanced across the Potions classroom at his childhood nemesis. Harry’s eyes, dilated with lust as he panted over the shuddering pale body beneath him. Harry’s lips as they trailed hungry kisses down Draco’s throat. Harry’s teeth flashing suddenly white as they captured a tendon wrapped in skin. Harry’s throaty moan as he came, pounding into Draco’s body.  
  
Ron snapped his head up, blushing suddenly at the images that had enveloped him. He quirked a ginger eyebrow at Draco who was watching him carefully.   
  
“Why would you share that with me?” Ron asked quietly, averting his eyes again.  
  
“Because that’s what I miss.”  
  
Ron nodded silently and contemplated his ale. “You know,” he started, after what seemed like an eternity, “I was always jealous of you.” He chanced a sidelong glance at Draco. The ex-Slytherin was watching him steadily.   
  
“You had nothing to be jealous of,” Draco answered quietly.   
  
At Ron’s disbelieving snort, Draco continued: “You were his best mate. You had a much higher position in his life than I ever could. He loved you, Ron.”  
  
Ron’s eyes hardened before he whispered, barely audible, “Not as much as he loved you.”  
  
Draco looked away, unable to stare into those blue depths any longer. Long ago he had coveted those eyes, able to look upon Harry whenever they wanted. He’d envied Ron so much it hurt sometimes. It drew him into violence, into jealous rages, into spite. The long-standing hatred between the two of them hadn’t ended when Draco had finally won Harry’s heart. The smug satisfaction of capturing the one bit of Harry Ron couldn’t touch was enough to tide him over until decisions about the war had to be made.   
  
Ron was against their relationship from the start. He nearly cost Draco everything, but Harry held firm. When Ron had realized how deep Harry’s feelings ran, he sort of just… gave up. Draco found it wasn’t fun to taunt him anymore because Ron would just look wistfully at the two of them and slink off to seek comfort in Hermione’s arms. Draco had long since given up on trying to understand the redhead. He knew in the back of his mind that Ron had more than brotherly feelings for Harry, but he’d never admit it. Ron wouldn’t do a damn thing to risk his bond with Harry, even if it meant suffering in silence as Draco took over. The irony of the situation hit Draco hard and he leveled his gaze back with Ron’s.   
  
Ron was chewing his lip in contemplation, a trait, Draco realized like a slap in the face, which he’d probably adopted from Harry.   
  
Swallowing thickly over the emotions he refused to let surface, Draco moved to stand. “We should probably head back. Granger’s no doubt looking for you.”  
  
Ron tossed back the rest of his ale before reluctantly standing up. He regarded Draco with an unreadable expression for a moment. Draco’s brow furrowed and he ran his tongue subconsciously over his lower lip. Despite his better judgment, Ron’s eyes followed the slick muscle with a heated gaze. He shook himself slightly when he realized he was unconsciously leaning toward the blonde. Draco’s silver eyes locked briefly with Ron’s blue ones again before he leaned forward and touched his lips briefly to the redhead’s.   
  
Ron’s eyes widened for a moment and he gasped, allowing just enough room for Draco’s tongue to slide carefully between his lips. Ron’s eyes fluttered closed overwhelmed with the sensations assaulting his body. Draco’s mouth felt like molten velvet as he leaned further forward and deepened the kiss. These lips had tasted Harry’s. These hands had held Harry’s. The fingers running through Ron’s hair had similarly tugged at Harry’s unruly black locks. The tongue stroking against his had felt the vibrations of Harry’s moans. It was only when Draco’s hands slid around Ron’s waist and pulled him closer that his brain kicked back into gear. Ron suddenly had a tiny voice screaming in the back of his head, “Harry’s. This is Harry’s. Draco belongs to Harry!”   
  
Startled by his response, Ron tore his lips away. Draco’s eyes remained closed as he took a shuddering breath. When he opened them, they were a dark stormy gray. Ron had seen eyes like that before. He had watched Harry’s eyes darken to a deep forest green every time he’d looked at Draco.   
  
Ron could hear the other boy’s breathing calm and finally quiet. When their gazes met again, Draco’s eyes had become liquid silver again. They had a far-away look that was filled with pain and echoed the aching emptiness that had been plaguing Ron for months.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Draco said softly, sounding almost defeated.   
  
“No… it’s alright,” Ron hesitated.   
  
Draco sighed again and moved to leave. Ron’s hand on his arm stopped him. Draco blinked curiously at the redhead. Ron had the same far-away look that Draco often wore. Ron took a deep breath before stating plainly, “You loved him.”  
  
“Very much. I still do.”   
  
“I did too.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Malfoy. Draco… I need this.” Ron looked up at his admission. Surprisingly, Draco looked as if he understood. He nodded silently and pressed his lips against Ron’s forehead before interlocking their fingers and tugging the taller redhead along behind him.   
  
Stepping out on to the cool street, Draco turned and placed his other hand in Ron’s. “Hold on,” was all he said before there was a loud crack and they Disapparated.   
  
There was a familiar squeezing feeling and another loud crack before the two boys landed in the living room of Draco’s flat. It certainly wasn’t up to what Ron had thought “Malfoy standards” were. The walls were slightly yellowed and it looked as though nobody had taken a vacuum to the rug in ages. Old copies of The Daily Prophet were lying around on the coffee table in front of a near threadbare couch. Used coffee cups were strewn about on every flat surface and there were old take-out boxes lined up on the floor. Draco didn’t even seem to notice Ron’s scrutiny as he shucked his cloak and threw it unceremoniously over the only chair.   
  
Ron followed Draco through the short hallway, passing what he could only imagine was the kitchen area and the bathroom. The bedroom was a bit less cluttered, although the bed was unmade and the wardrobe looked as though a small army of imps had trampled through it. Ron could see some of Draco’s expensive quality shirts hanging limply off of the tangle of hangers through the open door.   
  
Draco finally noticed Ron’s inspections and smirked slightly—an image that disturbed Ron greatly. There was no malice left in the Malfoy smirk. It looked just like Draco: a hollow shell of what used to be there.   
  
When he finally spoke, the smirk was still there, but there was no humor in the tone: “Harry always hated it when I left the bureau door open.”  
  
Ron nodded slightly before looking back at Draco, his eyes clouded with suppressed emotions. “Tell me what he was like, Draco.”  
  
Draco didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. He walked slowly over to the dresser and picked up a small picture frame. He handed it to Ron silently.   
  
It was a picture Ron knew well. He’d been there when Hermione had taken it. He watched as the moving snowflakes danced down the frame capturing the image of Draco’s recently thrown snowball hitting Harry in the stomach. A lump rose in Ron’s throat as he watched Harry lunge for Draco and pin him into the snow on the ground before kissing him lightly and grinding snow down his neck. The two lovers in the moving picture were laughing joyfully, rolling in the snow. He could almost hear the clear peal of Harry’s laughter as he watched the darker boy clutch Draco around the middle and haul him into his lap, smiling broadly when Draco leaned back and kissed his cheek lovingly.   
  
Ron hadn’t even realized he was crying until he saw the drop slide off his cheek and splash on the glass covering the picture.   
  
“He was amazing.”  
  
Ron handed the frame back to Draco without a word. He could barely look up when he felt the pale hand caress his cheek, tilting it upwards. It was only when Draco’s lips fit snugly against his that Ron moved. He clamped his arms firmly around the thinner boy’s shoulders and kissed him aggressively back, letting all the pent-up rage and sorrow come crashing through his mouth.   
  
Draco made a muffled sound in the back of his throat, but held on to Ron tightly, twining his arms around the redhead’s waist and hauling him closer still. Draco’s erection slammed into Ron’s hip and both boys moaned loudly as their tongues battled for dominance. Ron didn’t even realize his shirt was missing until he felt Draco’s warm skin against his own. They were a flurry of limbs and clothing until Ron felt his knees hit the edge of the bed.   
  
Their lips finally broke contact when Draco pushed him backwards onto the bed. Ron inhaled the scent of Harry on the sheets underneath him and vaguely understood that Draco hadn’t changed them since Harry’s death, but he didn’t care. Draco crawled over him, straddling Ron’s hips before he leaned down to nip at Ron’s collarbone, right in the spot Harry used to love.   
  
Ron cried out and clutched Draco’s head closer, clinging as though he could bring Harry back if he tried hard enough.   
  
“Tell me how he liked it,” Ron groaned when Draco sat up to remove both of their trousers.   
  
Draco growled and caught the other boy’s mouth in a fierce kiss. “He used to beg me to fuck him. Beg me to hurt him. He’d beg me to break him,” Draco bit out against Ron’s lips. He was straddling Ron again and somehow both of their boxers had completely disappeared. Ron didn’t care about the mechanics of it. All he cared about was the harsh grinding of Draco’s cock against his own.   
  
“Oh gods Draco! Yes! Fuck me please! Fuck me like you fucked Harry!” Ron was nearly incoherent when Draco bit down on a hard nipple causing him to buck up against the pale boy’s hips. Ron’s nails scored deep tracks down the nearly white skin and Draco wondered how he’d known that Harry used to pride himself on those very marks. Draco arched his head back and moaned deeply.   
  
Ron felt the bed shift slightly when Draco settled between his widespread legs. He felt a strange wetness glide over his backside and then a sharp pain when Draco thrust two slick fingers into his arse. Draco didn’t slow down at all, but kept pumping his fingers steadily in and out, grinding his weeping cock against Ron’s thigh. Ron winced against the intrusion, but when Draco’s fingers curled to rub against that small cluster of nerves, he threw his head back with a low moan.  
  
“Oh gods Draco… please…” Ron panted.   
  
He saw the maniacal glint in Draco’s eye when his fingers withdrew. Ron tried not to whimper at the sudden empty feeling, but he watched the blonde instead. He positioned himself at Ron’s entrance and leaned forward, breathing harshly in Ron’s ear.   
  
“You sound just like him,” Draco gasped before pushing through the tight ring of muscles. Ron moaned loudly and arched back, trying to force Draco in deeper. Draco chuckled wickedly, “You squirm like him too,” he added with a nip.   
  
All Ron could do was clutch at Draco’s shoulders as he started rocking his hips, pumping steadily into Ron’s willing body. The incredible sensation of being completely filled had dulled all the protests of pain Ron’s body was trying to send him. Draco growled in triumph when Ron jerked sharply: he’d hit his prostate again. Ron started bucking up against Draco, meeting his every thrust. Draco was paying absolutely no attention to rhythm as he was clearly nearing an amazing orgasm.   
  
Draco leaned on one forearm and brought his right hand down to stroke Ron’s painfully hard cock in time with his quick thrusts.   
  
“Come for me, Ron. Come for Harry,” Draco panted.   
  
Ron’s vision exploded. He knew he cried out someone’s name and he was pretty sure it was Harry’s when he came all over both of their stomachs. His clenching muscles were enough to send Draco spiraling as well and he came deep inside of Ron, panting Harry’s name.   
  
They were both sticky and breathing harshly when Draco rolled to the side, allowing Ron some space.   
  
“He was incredible,” Ron whispered once he finally gained back enough control on his voice. He felt Draco’s head nod against his shoulder.   
  
Ron smiled for the first time in months. He no longer felt empty.


End file.
